Black and Blue

Fifteen

BLUE AND EVIE CROUCHED in the rafters of the old barn where the auction for ribbons of John’s skin was to be held. They’d been here for almost an hour, still, quiet, waiting, hidden by thick wooden beams and moldy hay.

He held at bay memories of the aftermath of their explosive encounter . . . until the second hour, when they knocked on the door of his mind, demanding entry.

Uncomfortable silence as they’d dressed.

Evie unable to meet his gaze.

A murmured “Well, that was fun, thanks” from her before she strode from the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. She hadn’t claimed him, after all.

Didn’t matter. He’d claimed her.

The time before, he’d felt horror that he’d betrayed Michael, and guilt. That time, he’d felt resolve. He wanted more. And so, more he would have. He couldn’t resist her. Fighting the attraction had done no good.

Now he would go after her. Win her.

Finally, the back doors of the barn creaked, signaling they were being opened. A short, wiry human with thinning hair, a great-white-shark tattoo coming up the collar of his shirt, and a man-baby belly, strutted inside with two armed men at his sides. One had a rifle. The other had a pyre-gun. Both were human.

Behind them, another male carried a small lacquered box with the Chinese symbol for revenge lining each side. There was no sign of Gregory, Tyson, or Tiffany, but Blue didn’t care.

This was happening.

“—gonna go crazy for these,” Shark was saying. He swiped his arm across the items on the nearest table, scattering everything to the ground.

The male placed the box on the surface. He was an Agamen, with huge white horns protruding from his skull. Bona fide ivory towers. Seriously, a colony of fairies could live inside those things.

Hell, maybe they did.

“I’m to remind you that there’s major heat on these,” Horns said.

Shark nodded and rubbed his hands together. “Consider me reminded. Now show me what I’m gonna be selling.”

Horns fiddled with the locks on the box. The lid was flipped open.

Blue saw three golden ribbons resting inside and nearly vomited. The pain John must have suffered . . . must be suffering. He had to swallow back a roar of fury, had to lock his power down tight.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Horns said with a crooked grin.

“Are you kidding? They’re gorgeous,” Shark exclaimed. “When the Star girl finishes her designs . . . people are gonna go insane.”

Across the expanse of the rafters, Blue met Evie’s gaze. Determination radiated from her.

“They die,” he mouthed. “Hard.”

Gripping two daggers, he dropped from the ceiling and landed on his feet. Evie did the same, and together they surged forward. The men noticed and reached for weapons—but they were too late. Blue threw both of his daggers, one finding a home in Shark’s right eye, the other in his left. Howling with pain, the guy dropped to his knees. Meanwhile, Evie savagely knifed one of the humans across the throat, his skin ripping and blood spraying.

Horns tried to sprint out the door, but Blue caught him with a thread of power—an invisible rope—and dragged him back, kicking and screaming. When Blue reached out, intending to slice through the horns to take them as a memento, the male bucked in an effort to jab him with the poisoned tips.

A swift stab, stab, stab deflated all three of the Agamen’s lungs. Alien anatomy classes came in handy sometimes. The male flopped forward, allowing Blue to break his neck with a vicious jerk.

The last remaining target managed to get his hands on a pyre-gun and fire a shot at Evie. She ducked, the laser soaring just over her shoulder. Blue closed the distance in a blink, grabbing the human’s arm, twisting, breaking the bone, and swiping the gun. He fed the barrel into the man’s mouth and pulled the trigger.

Yellow lights sparked from every orifice the human possessed, and blood quickly followed. He crumbled to the ground.

You think you can take out my woman? Blue spit on the body.

Your woman? Really?

Whatever. He spun, desperate to fight someone else, but the battle was over. He stomped to the table, and Evie tagged along. They peered at the glittering golden ribbons curling so prettily against the velvet.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He nodded to let her know he’d heard.

“We’ll find him.”

Yes, they would. They would never stop searching, never give up. He didn’t care what they had to do or who they had to kill.

“Let’s get the box to Michael,” he said.

The next few days were packed with activities. Evie held a press conference to announce she was taking over Black Industries and that she’d set up an exhibition game for the Invaders and Strikers at the end of the week. She called Tyson Star and set up a tour of the Star Light Hotel, but he wasn’t the one to give her the tour. His personal assistant did the honors.

She almost threw a tantrum.

Also, Tiffany had yet to call Blue and ask him to meet her father.

But at least no one had tried to kill him. Or Evie. It was safe to assume his cover was solid, he wasn’t a target, and whoever had ordered the car chase had changed his—or her—mind.

Even so, Evie was a bit on edge. She and Blue had not had their chat about expectations and had not made out again. Was he done with her?

No. Impossible. Last time he’d been totally on fire for her. Flames that hot couldn’t have just died out.

Really? Reeeally? Have you ever witnessed a fire burning? Flames die out all the time, moron.

She could hear him puttering around in the kitchen, and shivered. He’d snuck over a few hours ago. He’d snuck over every night, actually, secretly staying in the guest room, just as he’d promised Michael.

Have I lost my appeal?

No, she thought again. She wasn’t a raving beauty like the women he was used to, and she had the wrong hair color . . . and the wrong boob size. . . . Hey. She frowned. What had he ever seen in her?

She didn’t know. But she had not fallen from the ugly tree and gotten hit by every branch, thank you. Blue had felt an attraction to her, and it had been strong enough that he’d forgotten his dislike of her.

Maybe . . . the stress was getting to him? He worked constantly, and rarely slept.

To be honest, she was having trouble keeping up with him.

“Dinner,” Blue called.

He’d offered to cook, and she hadn’t even given a token protest. Her culinary genius was limited to boiling soup and thawing the frozen dinners her father sometimes sent over.

“Be right down.” She had left him alone about half an hour ago; the sight of him preparing a meal, acting all domesticated, had nearly sent her into a euphoric state of shock.

Translation: she’d wanted to jump him.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she padded to the kitchen. She checked the screen, saw Michael’s name, and grinned. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, sunbeam,” he replied. He called her once a day to check in.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

He offered nothing more, so she said, “Did something happen?”

“Nope. Just wondering if the exhibition game was set.”

A lie. He knew it was. He watched the news. “In two days, as planned. I’ve finalized all details for the after-party as well.” A party where Blue would probably have to seduce the pants right off Tiffany Star. Nothing else had worked.

He would always do anything necessary to get what he needed from a target, so maybe their aborted romance was for the best. Evie hadn’t changed her mind. She would never be okay with her man bagging other women, no matter the reason.

“Good,” Michael said. “That’s good.”

Blue stood behind the counter and, without moving a muscle, used his power to push a plate of spaghetti across the counter.

“Thanks,” she mouthed—and had to force herself to look away from him before she started drooling. Could the man never wear a shirt?

I’ve had that chest pressed against mine, but I failed to touch or taste it. Bad Evie!

It would be a lifelong regret.

“I wanted to ask . . . how things are going with Blue?” There was something odd about her father’s tone.

“Fine,” she said, grateful he couldn’t see the sudden color in her cheeks. “Why?”

“Are you two . . .”

She stifled a groan. “Fighting? No.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Too bad for you, because that’s the only question I’m willing to answer.”

“Sorry, sunbeam, but this is important. I love the man, I do, but he’s not right for you.”

“You think I don’t know that? And anyway, what brought this on?” she asked.

“I keep remembering the way you looked at him.”

How had she looked at him?

Blimey. Had Blue noticed?

Blue stepped around her, getting in her face, clearly concerned. He mouthed, “Something wrong?”

“My father is butting into something that is not his business,” she said, loud enough for both men to hear.

Blue straightened with a snap and paled, confusing her. Had he guessed what she meant? Was he offended—hurt by her father’s lack of trust?

The thought of Blue hurt . . . upset her.

Michael sighed. “All right. I’ll let it go. I just . . . I care about you, want the best for you.”

“Then why did you visit me only seven times while I was overseas?” The question left her before she could stop it, the neediness of her tone embarrassing her.

He heaved another sigh. “Your mom . . . are you sure you want to hear this?”

Mum had interfered? “Yes.”

“She threatened to hide you from me, and she was a good enough agent that I knew she could do it. I took whatever scraps she let me have, and pounced the moment you were legal.”

“Oh.” “Oh”? That’s all you have to say? Her entire outlook had just been turned inside out. Years of upset, for no reason. “Dad—” she croaked.

“No, it’s all right. It’s okay. I knew why you were holding me at a distance, and I couldn’t blame you. I’ve often thought I should have risked everything and just taken you away.”

She blinked away a prickle of tears. “Just knowing you wanted to . . . thank you,” she said.

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat as if he were having a little problem with tears, too. “I trained you to be an agent so that I could have more time with you. And you far surpassed my expectations. You should come back to work for me.”

“No.” She hadn’t changed her mind. When this was over, she was going back to her old life, where the lives of strangers rested in her hands—not the lives of loved ones.

“Stubborn,” he muttered. “Look, I’ve been watching the video and listening to the feed you sent me. I found a clip of Star at the Lucky Horn the day before the explosion, but there’s no audio, so I can only guess that’s when the bombing was being planned. Then, in the live feed from his estate, I heard something interesting.”

“What?”

“I’ll text you the details. Tomorrow morning, you and Blue have a new mission.”

The line went dead.

She set down her phone, scooped up her plate, and settled in at the table where Blue waited. He hadn’t yet touched his food. Had waited for her like a proper gentleman. She would have thought him calm if not for the tendrils of power now falling over her.

They were strongest when he was upset . . . or aroused. Right now, they were very strong.

So which was he?

Trembling, she picked up her fork. He picked up his, and she was momentarily blinded to all but his long, blunt-tipped fingers. I’ve had those inside me.

“Tell me about Claire,” he said, voice flat, utterly emotionless.

Instant mood killer!

Why did he want to know? Why was he pressing this yet again? “No,” she said.

He stared at her, unwavering. “Have you ever talked about it with anyone?”

“No.” And she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

His nod of acceptance was stiff.

Silent, they picked at their food for a few minutes. He was a good cook, and that kind of sucked, because it meant he was good at everything he did. That he had no deficiencies.

Soon the tension got to her, his power still stroking over her, revving her up so much that liquid heat began to pool between her legs. Her voice was raspy as she said, “Are we ever going to talk about what happened in my foyer . . . and my office?”

“Yes. But not now.”

What? Why? “When?”

“Soon. I hope.”

Not good enough. She dropped her fork and glared at him. “Why wait?”

His gaze raked over her, and heated, the lavender darkening to a deep, rich plum. “Feeling needy, princess?”

Yes!

Can’t lie to him. So, instead of answering, she hopped to her feet. “If you don’t want me anymore, just say it. I’m a big girl and I don’t need coddling.”

He remained silent.

Figured. She stepped around him with every intention of storming off. But he grabbed her by the waist and jerked her onto his lap. Those thick, muscular thighs. But he didn’t keep her there. He pushed the plates aside and set her on the table.

“I want you. I always want you.” He unfastened her pants and tugged them and her knickers down her legs, leaving her bare from the waist down. “Now spread your legs.”

She obeyed, but not quickly enough for his taste. He placed his palms on her knees, his skin so hot the contact burned, burned so good, and pushed her thighs apart, as wide as they would go. Exposing her. Making her vulnerable to his view.

He just sat there, looking at her. Heat in his glowing eyes. Expression taut. A charge thickened the air, and she found it difficult to breathe. She trembled, almost violently. Waiting was a beautiful agony . . . and then just agony.

“Please.” Begging him again? Yes. If that’s what it took.

“Oh, I’ll give you something.”

“Will you give me everything?”

“You’re so pretty here,” he said, ignoring her question. “I think it’s time for dessert.” And then he was on her, his mouth where she needed him. Hot and insistent, stoking her desire higher and higher with every flick of his masterful tongue. He licked up and down, from side to side, and all she could do was roll her hips and seek more.

Her fingers tangled in his hair. “Blue!” And then she was lying down, resting her feet on the arms of his chair, and he was reaching out, his hands cupping her breasts, as he ate and ate and ate. Pleasure spiraled through her, strong, insistent, demanding, building, building. She wasn’t going to last. Had wanted him too much, too long.

A scream ripped from her as she climaxed.

Blue tugged her upright and stood. He tore at the button and zipper on his pants. His shaft, so long and thick, stretched past the material. The head glistened, proving just how badly he wanted her.

“Know how good you taste, baby? Never had anything like it. But now I need you to suck me.”

“Yes.” She dropped to her knees, with no hesitation, and took him deep into her mouth. He moaned her name, a plea, a curse, then moaned again, whatever he said next unintelligible. He was so big he hurt her jaw, but she didn’t care. She moved on him, again and again, until his hips were pumping in rhythm with her mouth. Faster . . . faster . . . she pressed her tongue against his shaft with every upward glide, and when she reached the top she gave a little suck . . . again and again . . . and it was so good, so bloody good.

“About to . . . Baby, I want you to swallow me. Every drop.”

Then they were on the same page.

She gave another suck, a harder one, and that was it, that finished him. He came, roaring with his satisfaction.

After she’d taken everything he had to give, she rose to shaky legs—only to realize she and Blue were floating in midair.

“Uh, do me a solid and ease us back down,” she said even as she tensed, expecting a crash.

He tucked himself back into his pants and frowned. Then they were drifting to the floor, landing.

She pulled on her jeans and opened her mouth to say . . . what? That can’t happen again? Or: Why won’t you just do me already?

Her phone beeped, saving her from having to decide.

Michael’s text. The new mission. “We’re to intercept one of Star’s employees tomorrow morning.”

Blue nodded. Then, without a word, he stalked from the kitchen.

“I’m getting tired of watching you walk away,” she called.

He offered no response.

What did he want from her? What were they to each other?

What would happen next between them?

Despite everything, she almost couldn’t wait to find out.

He wasn’t having sex with Evie until she trusted him enough to talk about Claire. The more he had of her, the more he wanted from her—and the less she offered. She had things backward, and it was time he turned things around.

Judging by the one-sided conversation he’d heard when Evie was on the phone, he suspected Michael knew something was going on.

Blue planned to nut up and tell the man all . . . just as soon as he knew what “all” encompassed. What, exactly, did he want from the girl?

What would she give him?

Right now, not much.

Would disappointing Michael be worth it? Should Blue change his mind about going after her yet again and walk away before anything else was added to his “all” tab?

His gaze strayed to Evie, who sat across from him in another unmarked sedan. She distracted him, obsessed him, angered him, frustrated him . . . delighted him. With her, he discovered a rare ecstasy.

He’d once considered her a momentary pleasure. But she wasn’t. She was more than that. So he asked himself again: Would disappointing Michael be worth it, no matter how little Evie wanted from him?

Yeah.

So no, there would be no changing his mind.

Think carefully. His game was tomorrow, and the party the day after that. Which meant, in two days he would be turning up the heat on Tiffany Star. The thought left him cold, even disgusted, but he’d never been more determined to break a case.

His stomach twisted in a thousand tiny knots. In private, he could compel Miss Tiffany to do and think whatever he wished. Sex could be taken off the menu. But in public, he would have to play the part of besotted suitor. There was no way around it.

How would Evie react to, say, a kiss? End things with him then and there?

Would oral sex at dinner be nothing more than a fond memory?

He wanted to howl.

He would talk to her before the party and make her understand. And he would talk to Michael when things calmed down. He wasn’t a coward. He would deal with everything thrown his way.

Concentrate.

He and Evie parked their car at the end of a neighborhood street, waiting for their target. Their windows were tinted. No one could see inside, but they could see everything outside. Blue was anxious to get the ball rolling. Apparently, an employee of Star’s was supposed to deliver a message to a human named Tyrese Cooper, the owner of the house they were watching.

“Why hasn’t Solo revealed himself to you?” Evie asked, probably to fill the silence. He’d noticed she always cracked after a few minutes, as if she couldn’t bear to be alone with her thoughts. “I mean, he knows you’re alive. The entire world does.”

Blue had spent a lot of time mulling over that particular question. “Two possible reasons. He thinks he’ll draw heat to us, or that we’ll draw heat to him.”

“Yeah, okay. That makes sense. I just wish he’d send a text, you know. You deserve a text at the very least.”

She used her hands to punctuate her words.

Just as she’d done the night he’d met her.

He wanted to grin. It was as if she’d lost that part of herself, but now it was back.

But what had brought it back? Blue?

I want to be the reason.

“He has— Car!” Evie said, suddenly eager. “That’s gotta be our guy.”

His gaze landed on the SUV easing into Cooper’s driveway. After parking, an Arcadian emerged. Oh, yeah. That was Star’s man. “Stay here. We don’t know what supernatural abilities he possesses.”

Miracle of miracles, she didn’t offer an argument. He exited into the light and heat of the day. Just in case anyone was waiting in the SUV, Blue wrapped a stream of power around it, ensuring the doors would stay closed. He also wrapped a stream of power around the Arcadian, trying to hold him in place, but the male easily broke free with his own power, whipped around, and searched for the culprit.

Their gazes locked. Lavender against lavender.

At first, the male appeared awestruck. He was seeing football legend Corbin Blue. Then the cogs in his brain started turning, and it was clear he’d realized a football legend would not be here, clearly armed and ready for war.

The male shot across the lawn, down the street. Super-speed. Blue used his own, following, closing in. Around a corner. Over a parked car. Evading several fake trees.

They were going around the block, Blue realized. Heading back to Cooper’s. Guy planned to jump in his car, most likely, and grab a weapon or phone for backup—because there was no way the SUV could move faster than Blue.

Cooper’s house came into view.

Closer . . . Blue released a stream of power to trip the male, but he dodged it. Have to pick up speed—

A shovel came out of nowhere, smashing into the male’s chest. He ricocheted backward and landed on the street, air gushing from him in one mighty heave.

Evie dropped the shovel and withdrew a pyre-gun, aiming the barrel at the wheezing Arcadian. “All right, boys. Playtime is over.”

Gorgeous, wily woman. Blue had never been so happy to see her. “Where’d you get the shovel, boo-boo?”

Grinning proudly—and ignoring his choice of nicknames for once—she said, “I have all kinds of fun things in the trunk of each of my cars. Pray you never find out firsthand.”

Always prepared. Could she be any sexier?

Blue heaved his prize over his shoulder and stomped over to the SUV. There was no one inside. They closed in on Cooper’s house and didn’t bother ringing the bell, just burst inside.

A startled human sat in a chair in the living room, a bottle of whisky in hand. He was too drunk to care about the invaders.

“Stay,” Evie told him, marching forward.

He stayed. And waved.

Blue tossed the Arcadian face-first on the dark shag carpet. He slapped a hand over the otherworlder’s mouth, then ran a blade across the backs of his knees, silencing and hobbling him at the same time.

When the muffled screaming stopped, Blue turned him over and straightened, looking over his opponent. Bright lamplight revealed an otherworlder of average size. Meaning he was bigger than a human but far smaller than Blue. Typical Arcadian white hair and lavender eyes. Skin weathered from the harshness of the earth’s sun. Extensively armed. Blue removed each of the weapons.

“I’m going to ask questions, and you’re going to answer or you’re going to suffer,” Blue said, the seriousness of his tone making the guy shudder. “First up: Why were you sent to this house to see Mr. Cooper?”

“Message,” the Arcadian moaned.

Good. There would be no messing around. “Tell me.”

“Can’t.”

Or maybe there would. Blue raised his knife.

“I can’t tell—I have to show you!” the guy said in a rush.

“Then show me. Just don’t make any sudden moves or you’ll lose an appendage.”

Fat tears cascaded down the male’s cheeks as he slowly dug into his pocket and withdrew a small IDC. An identification card.

Blue took it and pressed the button in the center. Inches above it, the air flickered with tiny blue lights, and the Chinese symbol for revenge formed. The same symbol had been painted on the box holding John’s ribbons, as well as on the house walls of the seventeen people Star was suspected of abducting.

When Blue had first seen the symbol in the crime scene photos, he assumed it was either a mistake—too many people had gotten inked with symbols for constipation rather than, say, courage—or that it was meant to be deliberately misleading. What could Star have against all those people? People he wasn’t linked to in any other way.

“Why were you supposed to give this to Mr. Cooper?” Evie demanded, picking up where Blue had left off.

“I—I don’t know,” the otherworlder said. “I wasn’t told.”

“Have you ever had to deliver this type of message before?” Blue asked.

“Yes.”

“To whom?”

The male rattled off a list of names, all of the ones on the abduction list and several that were not. Interesting. Blue would have to check into the others and find out if the individuals were missing and just hadn’t been reported, or if something else had happened to them . . . or if nothing nefarious had happened at all.

“Mr. Cooper,” Evie said, her tone gentle now. She crouched in front of the homeowner. “Can you tell us what’s going on? Why Gregory Star would want revenge against you?”

That’s when the human began to sob. Great, heaving sobs, with tears and snot and slobber. He spoke, but his words were incoherent.

They’d get no answers from him anytime soon.

Evie met Blue’s gaze. “Let’s take him to Michael and get you to the stadium for your pregame workout or whatever it is you jocks do. Once Mr. Cooper has sobered up, he can be questioned further.”

Blue nodded, then turned his attention to the Arcadian. “Does Mr. Star have a Rakan hidden somewhere in his home?”

“N-no.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“No! I haven’t seen a Rakan, I swear.”

“Have you heard one?”

“No!”

Okay, then. Blue confiscated Evie’s pyre-gun and squeezed the trigger. A bright white light lanced to the man’s chest, burning through his heart in seconds. He was dead before he had time to panic or scream.

Blue had been ID’d as an agent. Maybe Star already knew, and didn’t care. Maybe he didn’t. No reason to take chances, and every reason not to—John could be used against him.

“You get Mr. Cooper to your father,” he said to Evie. “I’ll take care of the Arcadian.”

“What about your practice?”

“I’ll be on time, don’t worry.” Then: “You gonna come to the game tomorrow?” he asked, unable to help himself.

She closed the distance, took her gun, and peered up at him. “You want me to?”

He didn’t need to think about his answer. “Yeah.” He liked the thought of her eyes on him while he kicked ass all over the field.

The look in those dark, dark eyes softened. “Then I’ll be there.”